For Once In My Life, Invincible
by Switchblades and Sunsets
Summary: Ponyboy Curtis hates to shoot things. He's known this little tidbit of information ever since the day of his very first hunting trip, not so long ago. Simply because he knows what it's like to be at the bottom of the food chain.


**Another one-shot. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders. Just in case you didn't know.**

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_"Yeah," I said. "Darry always got the most ducks, though. Him and Dad. Soda and I goofed off too much, scared most of our game away." I couldn't tell Dally I hated to shoot things. __He'd think I was soft.  
-Page 86 out of The Outsiders _

XXX

The moment that I felt the solid weight of the small hunting rifle on my shoulder for the first time in my life, the whole world seemed clearer. Sharpened. I felt like the king of the world, like there was nothing that could possibly harm me.

I simply let the gun rest there for a while, letting my overactive imagination take over. It was as if I could literally _feel_ the power pulsing in this weapon, like it had a heartbeat of its own. For a few precious seconds, I was invincible.

"Earth to Ponyboy ... how's the weather up there in the clouds?" Someone's joking voice jerked me out of my reverie. Sodapop.

"It's alright," I said, grinning, "Just a little too wet for my tastes, though."

Soda smirked, "Ya couldn't fool me, spending so much time up there. I mean---"

"Shhh," Darry interrupted in an annoyed whisper, "You guys are scaring off all the ducks!"

"Right," I muttered, crouching down into the position I'd seen him and Dad assume so many times. It felt a little awkward, but I wasn't about to complain. That would probably just convince them that I was still "too young" to participate in the shooting.

For a while, all four of us just stayed perfectly still, waiting for the right time to aim and fire. I was pretty good at hitting the bull's eye of the paper targets Dad drew for me a while ago to prepare for this trip, but I had a feeling this would be nothing like it.

My adrenaline never completely left me, even as the seconds of waiting dragged into long minutes. Then, out of nowhere, I spotted one. It seemed to appear in the water out of nowhere, leaving tiny ripples in its wake. After a few moments of gliding, the large duck waddled out of the water, its green feathers glistening in the sun.

Even from a distance, I could see that it was beautiful. Completely forgetting what I was supposed to be doing, I just stared at it in amazement. It was like I'd never really _seen_ a duck before ... at least not like this.

A shot rang through the silence, making me jump half a foot. In the space of a second, the duck that had held my attention for so long was dead.

"Nice shot, Dar!" Soda said appreciatively.

"Good on ya, son," Dad said, clapping Darry on the back.

I swallowed, feeling an uncomfortable lump in my throat. The shotgun on me felt heavy, all of a sudden, and _cold_. A wave of nausea went through me, and I forced my eyes away from the scene on the grassy beach.

"Are you alright, Ponyboy? You're looking kinda green," Soda commented cheerfully.

"Yeah," I lied quickly. He and Darry would never let me forget it if they found out I was feeling sorry for a _duck_. None of the gang would.

"So, Soda. Where are you thinking of taking Sandy tomorrow?" I asked loudly. I knew from experience that this was the best way to get him talking, so that the animals would hear us and stay away.

It worked. Sodapop could never stop talking about Sandy once he got started. I grinned, gazing up at the sky and letting my mind wander far away from guns, death, and the like.

One thing was certain: I wasn't about to shoot anything today.

XXX

As the sun started to make its way below the horizon, we trudged along the muddy path back to our old Ford.

"Good haul today," Dad said nonchalantly, then turned to me. "You'll get the hang of it soon, Pony. Don't worry."

I smiled half-heartedly. I wasn't worried about not getting anything--- Quite the contrary, actually. But you just didn't say that to someone like my dad. He lived for this stuff. I could see why ... The feeling of being the predator for once, not the prey, gave you a heady rush. Living on the East side for long probably made grown-ups feel pretty bad about themselves too, in a different way.

But this sport was definitely not for me. I sighed quietly, hating the feeling of being too weak to handle something that should have been so simple.

"So what happened, Pone? I was waiting for you to take that shot, but you didn't. Why?" Darry said curiously.

I shrugged uncomfortably, feeling my ears heat up. I had no idea Darry had noticed me noticing the bird...

He didn't press the subject, thankfully. I was starting to feel the beginnings of a headache, and my stomach still felt sorta funny.

A took a bunch of aspirins after we got home, not bothering to count how many. My head had started hurting like crazy somewhere during the ride back, the worst headache I'd had in a while. I grabbed a book at random and lay down in me and Soda's shared room, hoping the story would suffice to distract me until the painkillers set in.

I'd barely gotten through ten pages of _Oliver Twist_ before Mom was calling me to dinner. I groaned, and half-fell out of the bed. Food was one thing I definitely did not want at the moment.

Mom watched me intently as I sat down, making me feel like a bug under a microscope. Of _course_ Dad would tell Mom everything that happened today, I thought miserably. He told her everything.

I wondered, through the loud background noise of my brothers, what in the world was wrong with me.

"Can I, uh, be excused?" Being polite was the only way Mom would ever let me leave the table minutes after arriving.

"You haven't eaten anything, Pony. What's wrong? Are you sick? You must be hungry, after an entire day of hunting---Your first time, too!" My mom said, reaching over to feel my forehead.

"I'm alright, just tired," I mumbled, ducking her hand. "I'm not hungry, really. Can I just go now?"

"Well, I guess that's okay, then... if you're sure."

I didn't need to be told twice. Unbelievably, I fell asleep almost as soon as I lay down once again.

XXX

I woke up to the sound of someone trying to walk around quietly without much success. Soda.

He grinned at me, and said, "Sorry, Pony. Guess I'm just not too great at sneaking around my own house."

I yawned, sitting up. "It's alright. I dunno how I fell asleep ... but I'm awake now." And not gonna fall asleep again anytime soon. It was just the way I was... If I was woken up in the middle of the night, (Or in this case, evening) I could almost never get back to sleep again.

As soon as Soda had settled into his bed on the other end of the room, he spoke again.

"Pony, what's wrong? You know you can tell me."

"Nothin'."

"Really," he said sceptically, "You're not exactly hard to read, Pony. You've been even quieter than usual since this morning, you didn't eat dinner, you went to sleep at seven, and you _still_ insist that you're _okay_?!"

"Fine." I gave up, knowing that he'd won. "I hated seeing Darry shoot that duck. I saw it ages before he did, but I just couldn't kill it. Happy?"

He looked at me, cocking up an eyebrow. "Well."

I just sighed, taking the bait."Well what?"

"So our little Ponyboy's still just as soft-hearted as ever," he teased.

I sighed, knowing he was right and hating that fact. Greasers were supposed to be tough, but I... I was pretty much the polar opposite of the word.

"Really, Pony..." Soda said, suddenly serious, "Maybe that's a better way to be. Us, me, Darry, and Dad... we gotta get our satisfaction outta killing things less powerful than we are. It's human nature, ya know? If we hold everything in too long, we'd explode. Hunting's a release. You know what I mean, Pone?"

"Yeah, I get it. I understand." I did. I had been feeling exactly what Soda was describing just this morning. What Soda said... It was almost like an apology. His words calmed me, and I felt better about the whole thing.

I closed my eyes again, this time falling into a deeper, more peaceful sleep. Maybe I'd draw the picture of that duck tomorrow. Of how it looked _before_ it died. A tribute to all the unlucky, bottom-of-the-food-chain creatures of the world. Ones just like all of us, living every day on the wrong side of town.

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**Um... So how was that? Hopefully acceptable? Any kind of response would be awesome, since I think I spent more time on this one-shot than I did on any of the others.**

**Thanks for reading! :)**


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